


Suspended in Time

by tenrhettwoods (castlesintheair)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Fluff, M/M, kind of a scary situation, kind of?? there's definitely some fluff in there, prompt, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlesintheair/pseuds/tenrhettwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The car picks up speed for about five seconds - suddenly breakneck - then stops altogether, throwing them both off their feet. Rhett falls forward, grabbing onto Link’s shirt in an attempt to keep himself upright, but they both end up on the ground.</p>
<p>Something above them lets out a slow screech. Link gulps as Rhett tries to find Jesus in the garish pattern beneath his knees. </p>
<p>It’s 7:12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspended in Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the Rhink Summer Fic-a-thon! I did not research elevators or elevator accidents while I wrote this, so a) I'm making everything up as I go for the #drama, and b) you definitely shouldn't research elevator accidents either. I mean, I think that goes without saying.

It’s seven in the morning and the coffee shop is closed.

This makes no sense to anyone. There’s a growing commotion around its perimeter, the sidewalk bustling with grumpy would-be customer after grumpy would-be customer giving up and carrying on with their cruddy day, woefully uncaffeinated. Link regrets his broken coffee maker for the fifth time that morning.

Rhett, never one to _need_ coffee, but rarely one to give up the chance of devouring literally any variety of baked good before starting his day, isn’t feeling entirely cheerful either. Unlike Link, however, he’s more willing to simply shrug and move on, so he taps his shoulder - they’re going to be late if they don’t get a move on anyway.

Link has his hands on one of the glass windows, both cupped on either side of his face to shield the sun from blocking his view, but there’s nobody inside. No coffee brewing, no muffins baking, and no fresh bananas hanging from the hook atop the metal fruit bowl. The chalkboard menu boasts yesterday’s specials, but Link’s brain rearranges the letters to spell out one word: _disaster_.

“We gotta go,” Rhett says, tapping Link’s shoulder again, more urgently than before.

Link doesn’t budge. He says, “I’ll make a fool of myself if I don’t get my coffee, Rhett.”

Rhett rolls his eyes. “Shoulda brought you some myself.”

“Right. Jerk.”

Rhett ignores the insult, and full on grabs Link’s shoulder this time, pulling him away from the window by force. Link attempts a protest, but he doesn’t get very far before he’s been dragged well away from the group of angry customers.

“What was that for?” Link asks in frustration, his voice uncharacteristically high. Rhett gestures toward the end of the street, as if that ought to answer his question. Link stares.

“We’re going to be late, idiot.”

“Oh,” Link replies. He takes off his glasses and massages his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. “Gosh, this is going to be awful. You sure we don’t have time to find another café?”

Before Rhett can answer that no, they definitely _don’t_ have time, Link’s taken out his phone and checked for himself.

“Ugh.”

“Look, Link,” Rhett reasons, grabbing the sleeve of his jean jacket and tugging him to follow as he begins down the street again. “It’ll take thirty minutes, one hour _tops_. We’ll be outta there before you know it. Besides, if all goes well, we’ll have a check to cash and we can treat ourselves to somethin’ nicer than a crappy old franchise coffee shop.”

Link considers this as they walk up to the building, fiddling with a button on his jacket as he thinks. He figures he can’t argue with that. “Alright,” he says, “fine. Do you have an advil?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

Link pushes through the glass doors in front of them and inadvertently blasts them both with a rush of cool air, nearly knocking himself backwards in the process. He decides that the world is 100%, absolutely working against him today.

They’re set to meet with some big executive to strike up a deal for a new TV show at a quarter past, and, if things go well, they could be looking at a sizeable advance for what’ll be their biggest project yet. The lobby is very modern - every surface is either made of glass or covered in brushed metal. There are a lot of tastefully arranged houseplants.

It’s 7:06.

Rhett walks up to the front desk and smiles at the receptionist, figuring that it’s a good idea to save Link from having to put on his game face ‘til they actually make it to the exec’s office. He gives the guy their information, waits for him to check the system, then turns back toward Link and points up.

“Penthouse.”

Link’s eyebrows make a break for it. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Nope,” Rhett replies, pulling out his own phone to check the time. “Five minutes, come on.”

They head towards the elevator and stand a good few feet apart while they wait, their combined anxiety catching up to them. Link is especially jittery, and he breaks the silence first.

“You feelin’ good about this?”

Rhett looks at him and grins. “‘Long as I’m not goin’ it alone, brother.”

Link takes a deep breath.

The elevators dings - surprisingly efficient, considering the number of floors it had to cover to get there - and the doors slide open, revealing an unexpectedly dingy interior. They both hesitate before stepping inside.

“Reno didn’t cover everything, I guess.” Link says, gingerly crossing the car to lean against the far wall. He isn’t looking forward to riding the thing up thirty floors.

The doors close as Rhett punches their number, and the elevator makes a disconcerting lurch to the side before it starts to climb at a snail’s pace. Rhett turns around to stare at Link, who has the same nervous look on his face, and they share a silent but heavily implied “oh crap.” The car picks up speed for about five seconds - suddenly breakneck - then stops altogether, throwing them both off their feet. Rhett falls forward, grabbing onto Link’s shirt in an attempt to keep himself upright, but they both end up on the ground.

Something above them lets out a slow screech. Link gulps as Rhett tries to find Jesus in the garish pattern beneath his knees.

It’s 7:12.

They’re both afraid to move for a good minute. Rhett hasn’t let go of Link’s shirt, but neither of them notice that they’re tangled up in one another - silence has replaced the metallic shriek, and somehow it’s almost more terrifying. Link notices that all the buttons on the control panel have gone dark right before the light above them does the same. Rhett tightens his grip.

“Oh my goodness,” Link finally says, his voice barely a whisper. He doesn’t move an inch.

Rhett stares ahead, blinking through the darkness in an attempt to bring Link’s face back into focus. The moment he can see his eyes again, he remembers his hand, still curled in Link’s button-up, and he lets go like he’s on fire. He flexes his fingers once, twice.

They breathe through a minute of tense, terrified silence, and then Rhett starts to straighten up, bracing himself on the wall and hoping with everything he has that the change in weight distribution won’t snap the cables completely. They both hold their breath… and nothing happens. Rhett lets his out in a whoosh and moves a bit more.

“What do we do?” Link asks, inching slightly to the right so he can lean his back on the side of the elevator car. Rhett turns as though he’s planning to make his way to the other corner, but Link grabs his sleeve before he can go any further. “Rhett, no!”

“What?” Rhett asks, turning back to look at him, frozen in place. He’s more than a bit shaken.

“What if there’s a weak spot?” Link replies, quiet again, though his tone is just as urgent. Rhett gestures toward the control panel.

He says, “There might be an emergency button, or a phone or something.”

“Didn’t they get rid of those? Hold on-” Link reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He stares at it for a moment, then holds it way up and stares at it some more. Finally, he drops his hand down into his lap, dejected. “No service.”

Rhett frowns and takes out his own phone, performing the same routine. He, too, comes up short. “How the heck is there no service in a place like this?” Rhett obviously means the building itself, but Link gives him a look anyway. “You know what I mean. Are we in a freaking time warp?”

Link rests his head on the wall and looks up, running through the possibilities in his mind. “Could be a jammer on the roof of the elevator,” he says, pointing towards the ceiling.

“We’re not in a cartoon, Link,” Rhett replies, rolling his eyes. “Why would someone put a jammer on the roof? Makes no sense.”

“None of this makes any sense. Why did the lights go out?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay,” Link looks forward again, glaring into Rhett’s eyes, “calm down.” They can mostly make each other out in the darkness now. He continues, “Go on and look for the emergency button.”

“Yeah, alright,” Rhett says, turning back around and inching forward again, painfully slowly. When he’s almost at the other end, he puts a foot forward and leans his weight onto it, attempting to stand.

This is a mistake.

The cables screech again, lower this time, mournful, and something else clanks, echoing up and down the elevator shaft. Rhett and Link both brace themselves against the walls, their heartbeats skyrocketing. The car makes a loud _thunk_ as one corner tilts about an inch further downward than the rest, and Rhett looks back and stares right at Link, who looks like he’s just crapped his pants.

It’s 7:23.

“That was a very bad idea,” Link finally says after they’ve both learned how to breathe again. Rhett widens his eyes.

“It was _your_ idea!” he says, knowing full well that it was not. Link just watches him. “Alright, fine. But look, I’m close enough now…” Rhett leans forward, ever so slightly, and eyes the dark control panel. He presses his palms together and looks up at the ceiling again when he finds what he’s searching for, then triumphantly pushes the bright red button. Nothing happens.

“Well?”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Rhett grunts, pushing the button several more times for good measure. The panel stays dark. “Oh God.”

Link makes a high, hopeless noise in response, running his fingers through his hair and keeping them there. Rhett wishes he hadn’t crossed the floor of the elevator car, and he feels a deep ache in his chest as he realizes that a step toward Link could mean-

Well. It’s 7:31.

“We’re missing the meeting,” Rhett says. He’s really thinking, _I should be over there right now._

“Screw the meeting,” Link replies. He’s really thinking, _Why didn’t I make you stay put?_

They stop talking altogether. Link stares at the carpet between his shoes, watching the outdated zig-zag pattern cross itself over and over again in varying shades of puke brown. It’s the universal colour of smoothies, he realizes, and he laughs despite himself. His humour is short-lived.

Rhett can’t stop staring at the control panel, and he wishes that he could will it to work with only his mind. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He _hates_ it when he can’t wrap his head around something - that button should work. Why won’t it work? He slams it again, more violently than necessary, and angrily runs his hands through his beard when it remains unresponsive.

The elevator keeps steady. It’s 7:40. Twenty minutes pass before either one of them speaks up again.

“Hey, Rhett?”

Rhett rubs at his eyes, then turns to face Link, noticing that he’s lifted his head and can’t seem to decide where to look. They match shallow breaths and catch each other in a quick glance. Link opens his mouth again to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I’m gonna come over there.” Rhett decides this as he says it, surprising himself. Link puts both of his hands up.

“Don’t be an idiot, Rhett.”

“I’m not being an idiot,” Rhett replies, stone-faced. “Nothing’s gonna happen if I _don’t_ move, and I’m talking big picture here,” he gestures at the defunct emergency button. Link frowns, and Rhett continues. “Maybe it’ll be fine if I’m careful enough - I,” he steels himself, “I’m not seeing a way out of this anytime soon. I’d rather-” he stops abruptly and steadies himself on the wall instead, taking a deep breath. Link pulls a hand through his hair and clasps it around the back of his neck, leaning his cheek against his wrist. He watches Rhett with worried eyes.

Rhett takes another deep breath, and he’s all the way across the car before Link even realizes what’s happened. He punches his arm on reflex. “What the hell, man?!”

Rhett’s jaw drops. “What are you doing?” he asks, punching him right back.

“When did you become the freakin’ Flash, dude? How did you even do that? How are we still alive right now? Oh my goodness, I can’t breathe.” Link says all this so quickly, Rhett has trouble keeping up. “Jesus, Rhett, what are we going to do?”

They both feel a lot better by virtue of being next to one another again, but it also makes their reality a lot more, well, _real._ Rhett slumps down next to Link and leans his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling and trying to think their way out. This, of course, doesn’t work any better than it did before. He glances over at Link, considering his options. He decides to throw caution to the wind, and Link turns his head when Rhett nudges his shoulder.

“Hey,” Rhett says, nodding toward his hand. He’s laid it on top of his thigh, palm up, clearly an invitation. Link looks at him, and they share some sort of unspoken understanding as they watch each other in the darkness. Link slips his hand into Rhett’s without a word, and Rhett curls his fingers around Link’s knuckles with a light, reassuring squeeze.

After a minute, Link laughs and pulls a face. “Your palms are so freakin’ sweaty, man.”

“I think I actually have a pretty good excuse this time,” Rhett says, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. As they grow more comfortable, Link leans into Rhett and Rhett leans back, and ten kinds of butterflies duke it out in their stomachs. What more could they do?

It’s 8:06, and Rhett starts humming an old Merle Haggard song, one of their favourites. Link can remember blasting it through the Dynasty’s beat-up speakers like it happened just yesterday, and he feels infinitely more at peace despite himself. They used to drive for hours in that thing, going nowhere, taking in what felt like the whole world as they cruised along the only highway they’d ever really known. They lived in a bubble then. When Rhett gets to the chorus, he sings out, loud and clear, and Link joins in with a perfectly-paired harmony, as usual.

That’s when the door opens, and they’re temporarily blinded by the sudden rush of sunlight.

“Oh my God, how long have you been in here?” someone asks - neither Rhett nor Link can place the voice.

“Why didn’t they call for help?” someone else says. “They weren’t even stuck between floors!” Link can sort of make out the shape of a crowd - there are four or five people standing in the opening.

“Can they hear us? Did you try to pry open the doors?” Rhett laughs at this, burying his face in his knees. His shoulders shake as Link clears the fuzz out of his head, and he can’t help but laugh along with him - they didn’t even think of yelling, much less trying the doors. Two engineers stuck in an elevator….

“Um,” Link begins, trying to relax. He suddenly feels full of energy, coffee be damned. “Careful you don’t come in, now - it’s real unsteady.” He lowers his voice. “Come on, Rhett.”

Rhett sniffs through a chuckle and raises his head; the apples of his cheeks are bright red, from relief or exertion, Link can’t tell. They decide to crawl out, one after the other, but they keep their grip on each other firm so as not to risk an accident. That’s what they tell themselves, anyway.

Once they’ve promised to provide witness statements for the authorities and made it out of the building, they’ve both almost forgotten how they’d ended up there in the first place. Rhett takes out his phone and scoffs, turning it around and holding it up where Link can see the screen. Full bars.

“I can’t believe it,” Link says, pulling out his own phone. He shakes his head. “Same here.”

“Maybe we really _did_ get caught in a wormhole,” Rhett wonders, his eyes wide. Link purses his lips and creases his brow, not sure if he should criticize him or let it be.

“Whatever, Rhett. I’m just happy we’re still standing.”

“Well, me too.” Rhett thinks for a second, then lets out a long breath. “Golly, Link, that was awful.”

“I’ll say,” Link replies, staring up at him. He still feels pretty shaken. Rhett considers that they might both be in shock and wonders if they ought to go find some blankets. He hears sirens in the distance.

“Huh.” Rhett’s looking at his phone again, and Link leans over, trying to see what’s caught his attention. There doesn’t seem to be anything interesting on the screen, but Link asks anyway. Rhett points at the clock. “An hour, tops. That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Look at that, I predicted our future.”

Link isn’t impressed. “Come on now, Rhett.”

Rhett puts his phone away and smiles down at Link. A fire truck pulls up alongside the curb, but it takes them a good few seconds to tear their thoughts away from each other and notice.

“So, coffee?” Rhett asks. Link tilts his head toward the approaching officers, and Rhett makes an ‘O’ with his mouth. “Later, then.”

“Yeah, later.”

“Thirty minutes, one hour _tops_ ,” Rhett grins.

Link bumps their shoulders together and laughs. “Shut up.”


End file.
